Metal Gear Solid 4: Death and Rebirth
by PompeyMagnus
Summary: My very first Metal Gear Solid fanfic, a continuation of the Sons of Liberty storyline featuring the same characters you'd expect, with some surprises, and new characters. Chapter Four up, please read and review.
1. Smoke and Mirrors

This is The Evincar…

And this is my very first MGS fanfic…

So forgive me if it's lame or something…I write a lot of fanfiction, but mainly Evangelion stuff…I did write some Eva/MGS crossover, but that doesn't count much, just some Solidus Snake scenes…ehehhe

Well, I've been doing some reading, and I like the stuff here…My favorite characters, by the way, are Solidus and Ocelot…'

In other news, I hate all the Raiden bashing…Sure he's odd and he's not Solid Snake, but I still find him interesting…Like some people say, maybe if the American voice of his would've been better like the Japanese actor voicing him.

This fanfic is sort of a Metal Gear Solid 4, as you've seen tried countless times I'm going to try to continue the Metal Gear Solid 2 storyline (except very poorly…ehehhe)

Well, anyway, let's start the show.

Disclaimer: I don't own Metal Gear or its characters. Konami does, and they rock. Who else could create someone as kickass as Revolver Ocelot!

* * *

**December 3rd, 2010**

**Unknown Location**

The shadowy figure stood their, its long drab trench coat swaying in the wind.

Behind it were a horrendous fire, and a large wreckage of metal and dirt that seemed unidentifiable as anything commonplace.

He clutched his arm, stumbling forward, an odd clacking sound against the ground as he walked.

He reached into his coat, pulling out a small syringe and injecting it into his arm.

* * *

**New York City, New York**

**Public Park**

The slender man dressed in a white shirt and jeans sighed as he strolled down the grassy path, his pale hair swaying in the wind over his equally pale face.

He stopped and slowly lifted up his hand, staring at his watch.

_Dammit…where are you Snake? _

The message had been small, delivered on a piece of paper, breaking the silence that had descended for months between the two men.

Raiden had spent the last few months trying to settle down into a normal life, or at least as normal as he could manage, as he and Rose tried to settle their problems, the young woman growing steadily more and more pregnant.

He remembered her face in the chaos; he remembered her words and the face he could not truly refuse.

"_I want you to see me for who I am, not for who I pretended to be."_

Then it had happened, a simple knock on the door and a small piece of paper reading, "December 3rd, Williams Street Public Park, 8:10 P.M.- Snake".

He had found it crude and odd for someone like Solid Snake to simply leave a note like something one would find in elementary school note-passing, right by his door, or to even know exactly where his new address had been, since he lived under the alias "Leonardo Sears" now.

But he supposed that Snake and the rest of Philanthropy were busy and disgruntled, on their chase after what Raiden had dubbed "Liquid Ocelot" and the Patriots.

He remembered the countrywide news reports about a "Hijacked Metal Gear Ray". Those only served to put more fear into the people, Congress pushing for more military spending and passing a bill to sustain and raise the number of guards on duty at American military facilities. Such a thing would not be allowed to happen again. Unless the Patriots wished it.

He stopped short of a small clearing in the grassy path, looking around the dark bushes of the park, which was strangely abandoned, at a time where there would usually be homeless people, or at least late joggers.

_Snake always knows the perfect meeting places, I guess._

Then he saw it, a solitary figure, an approaching shadow in the distance, as it approached he could see the telltale bandana and outline of Solid Snake.

Raiden nodded to himself, striding forward to meet Snake when he suddenly noticed something odd about Snake's face.

There was something different, it had the same basic features of Solid Snake's face, but there were some minor differences other than the lack of facial hair, the nose seemed insignificantly smaller, the ears a almost unnoticeably different shape, the differing characteristics between perhaps what Snake and someone trying to pass as Snake would be.

Raiden halted, his eyes widening, his body moving quickly as the faux Snake suddenly produced a long wooden pole from out of nowhere, as if it had simply materialized, and swung it wordlessly towards his head.

He ducked down quickly, dodging the blow, and rolled backwards; reaching for the handgun he knew was tucked into the back of his pants.

But his motion was cut off from a strong slam to his back, sending him falling and rolling onto the ground, stomach up, cursing himself mentally for not checking for more attackers.

He stared up at the newcomer as the figure loomed over him.

It was a tall, lanky, slender man dressed entirely in black with a black fedora. In fact, it seemed like he was taken off of a screen full of black and white cinema, since he was covered from head to toe in ebony except for his pale, almost completely albino skin. Even his eyes were a pale, light, lifeless gray.

Raiden noticed this all in seconds, and leapt up, trying to take the initiative, kicking at the man while spinning around to face the faux Snake and at the same time drawing his pistol.

He landed the kick, although the man in black seemed to stand there, absorbing the attack, and managed to duck under yet another swing from the faux Snake while drawing his weapon and aiming it.

Then, he felt something slam into his neck from the side, and it was all over, his body rolling onto the ground and shaking.

He stared up numbly, his eyelids growing heavy.

The last things Raiden heard and saw before he descended into the darkness were the faux Snake standing over him, staring down at him and then turning to his someone Raiden could not see.

"Viper...make sure not to kill him…we still need him alive."

* * *

**Unknown Location**

He groaned as he slowly became cognizant, as he was slowly born into total strangeness and confusion.

The only image in his mind was the last thing he remembered.

_He stumbled slowly backwards, his body slowly almost floating dizzily in confusion as he teetered off the edge of Federal Hall._

_He knew the truth, and it ripped up his soul. It made him want to destroy entire countries full of people._

_He'd been weak, he'd let the boy win, he'd let the Patriots get the best of him. When the time had come for the final strike, when the time had come to finally deliver, he had been unable to, and Jack had._

_Always that way, huh, Jack the Ripper? He chuckled to himself at the memories._

_He knew he'd lost, but deep down he felt a certain peace in defeat, and a realization of the importance of passing ones genes on from generation to generation, even if the person you were passing them to had no realization, and wasn't literally related to you._

_They didn't need to be, it didn't need to literally be ones genes; it could be a person's dreams, a person's morality and spirit. That's how life worked._

_He coughed, a bit of blood dripping from his mouth, and reached out with his left hand towards the blurry image of Raiden standing there silently, his hand grasping his godson's image, and then releasing it as he spoke his last words, to silent to be heard._

"_Carry on…Jack…carry on…a dead man has no use…the land goes…to the strongest"_

He growled, shook by the memories, filled with anger and rage at everything, his own weakness, Raiden, the Patriots, Dead Cell, the entire damned world.

He wanted vengeance, but most of all he wanted to deliver the final plan he had been enacting ever since the faithful day he had resigned from the presidency, his final scenario.

He didn't know what he was doing there alone and nude in the woods.

He didn't know why he was still alive, or why the Patriots or the local authorities had let him live, or let him go.

For all he knew he was simply another pawn in the paw of the Patriots, as he had been on the Plant, as most of the country was.

But this was irrelevant, for he knew one simple thing.

That he still remembered the code to enter a very special bunker, where there were many different suits of a very special armor.

* * *

**New York City, New York**

**Unknown Location**

The man let out a shivering moan of agony as he felt the sharp points rip into his neck, and then fell limp to the ground, blood pouring out of his wound.

The shadowy figure watched the man writhe upon the ground and smirked, his smart black goatee contorting with his expression, his ebony hair and drab green trench coat swaying ever so slightly in the breeze.

He stared listlessly at his hand, drenched with blood, and licked off the crimson substance, chuckling to himself and rubbing a bit of it into his skin.

Then he slowly brought his hand up, taking a long dagger out of his trench coat and slowly slicing a horizontal line into his bare chest, which was normal except for two other similar lines that were now scars in his skin.

There were also other lines, but they were only faintly visible, covered up by regenerating new skin, ghost relics of dead victims.

He smirked again as he put away his dagger, speaking to himself in a silky, accented voice.

"Third one today…"

But that was enough for now…He had business to take care of…Vengeance, meaning, meals, they all came together in the end.

He had promised him that he would take care of her, protect her from the death she had seemed unable to welcome afterwards, but he had failed in his weakness.

The man turned around, making his way farther down the alley, his boots making hollow noises as they splashed against puddles of dirty water and oil.

* * *

Short debut chapter, definitely, but I'm still getting the feel of writing Metal Gear Solid stuff, having never found it before…

Hope you enjoyed or were at least slightly interested by this…

I plan to have as much fun as possible with this fanfic, while introducing new characters and messing with the plot.

Well, see you next chapter, check out my other fanfics, when you can.


	2. Snakes and Swords

Well, no input at all, but I guess last chapter was short and maybe vague and lame…Anyway, I'll keep on chugging on, reviews or not, I like writing for Metal Gear Solid stuff, it's pretty fun, me being a big fan of the series and all.

Well, anyway, let's start the show.

Disclaimer: I don't own Metal Gear or its characters. Konami does, and they rock. Who else could create someone as kickass as Revolver Ocelot!

* * *

**Unknown Location**

Solidus Snake stood in the darkened bunker, smiling as he viewed the row upon row of submachine guns and katanas.

The security code had still recognized his finger print and allowed him access as Big Boss, something which mystified him.

_Either the Patriots have made a big misstep, or I'm simply playing into their hands again._

He shook his head as he made his way down the dark halls, finally stopping in front of a huge glass box, housing a full suit of the familiar mechanical suit he had grown to love, tentacles sprouting out of the back of the thin armor.

He smiled as he gripped a P90 and fired into the glass, shattering it.

It did not matter whose hands he was playing into, all that mattered was he would show them that they had gambled foolishly, allowing the true Big Boss to live on for vengeance.

* * *

**Unknown Location**

The obelisks stood solemnly in the darkness, in the dark, nondescript chambers. The space itself was so dark that it could've stretched on infinitely, there were no visible walls.

Only darkness, and then a group of tall gray obelisks, each emblazoned with a glowing writing upon them reading, "Sound Only".

Then, a gruff male voice pervading the silence, and echoing in the darkness.

"Adam has finally broken the communication silence."

Another voice emanated from another of the obelisks, a smooth accented tongue.

"Yes…it appears he is ready to establish contact."

"Through the empathy of Michael, he was pervaded."

"Indeed, it was wise of us to procure that arm for him."

"He will serve in this final plan, and then we will allow him to do what he wishes."

"As long as the final scenario is enacted, all else is irrelevant."

"The Legacy must be recovered…the act must be established."

Suddenly in the middle of the darkness, between the solemn obelisks, there shimmered an image, a blue, ethereal image that was most obviously some sort of hologram or projection, as it seemed to shudder and shake every few seconds, breaking the human form.

It was a tall, aged man, with flowing hair and a gruff, tired face. His face was mottled with scars and wrinkles, but his eyes were venomously lively, and he stared at the obelisks, a drab coat around him, the spurs at the end of his boots twinkling slightly.

He spoke with a dry, venomous voice, laced with an odd accent.

"I have come, as you wished."

"Yes, you have. Your conduct of the last few months has been pleasing indeed; the mass media has swallowed it up."

"Yes, as well as the indictment of Philanthropy as the hijackers of the lone Metal Gear, that alone was worth it all."

"Indeed, they cannot stop us. We have a mission for you, Adam, a final role in the farce, a redone scenario of Shadow Moses, once again. You must retrieve the Legacy."

Ocelot's eyes widened.

"Hmmm?"

"Volgin's share as well as the other half is located on the island of Lihin off the southernmost coast of China, in the South China Sea."

Ocelot smirked.

"There's a catch, isn't there? Why is it there? How heavily guarded?"

The voices continued to echo in response, emotionless.

"The island is secure, unbeknownst to the Chinese Philosophers. They are not aware of the cease of communication on the island."

"Indeed, you will assist Pyesetz in their capture and retrieval of the targets."

Ocelot nodded slowly, his dead eyes twinkling.

* * *

**New York City, New York**

Solid Snake nodded to himself as he stared at the woman, her face still beautiful although obviously marred with dry tears.

His hair was already gray from the advanced aging that came with being a clone, and his face seemed tired from having chased Ocelot all across the country, only to have to lose him mysteriously on the Pacific coast, and then hear from Otacon that Philanthropy is the center of a media frenzy once again.

He spoke, his voice the same as usual, except more gruff and tired.

"Tell me, Rosemary…What do you know?"

The young woman shook her head, her belly already visibly bulging from the grotestque throes of pregnancy, her body shaking.

"I-I was only a data analyst…an informant…I was never told any locations or anything else, I was only given orders…that's all. But they know Raiden's nanomachines contain the information…I know they do."

Snake nodded.

"It was either a group trying to stop anyone from retrieving the information by silencing Raiden, or some sort of group bent on finding the identities and locations of the Patriots. Ocelot may have something to do with this…I'm sure of it…"

Rose turned away, silent, her back to Snake as he turned around; his bandanna flowing slowly in the wind like some sand snake.

But she finally spoke as he began to walk away, never turning; her voice calm.

"Get…Get him back, will you?"

Snake nodded, turning his head to see her retreating form enter her apartment, his boots making an odd noise as he made his way down the stairs.

"I'll get him back. Count on it."

Snake continued strolling down the stairs, peering around the empty apartment complex, then kneeling down next to a stairwell and touching his head, communicating through his Codec.

"Otacon?"

The familiar voice of Dr. Hal Emmerich wafted in, his voice grimly serious.

"Snake? Is that you? I've found data concerning the situation, I think."

"Otacon? What is it?"

"A video feed in of a private airport in Southern California, a chartered jet carrying what I think might've been Raiden, I've tracked down his nanomachines, I think."

"Where was it headed?"

"A small island named Lihin in the South China Sea. Supposedly it's been taken control of by the JRA and another splinter organization. I've heard rumors that they've gathered the data behind the Arsenal Gear as well as major components of it, including the hydrogen weapon. They're supposedly constructing an more advanced weapon with the data they've collected."

"What? The Japanese Red Army? But they're supposed to have been disbanded decades ago? What do they want with Raiden and the Patriots?"

Otacon sighed.

"I don't know Snake, it doesn't make sense. There's obviously something more going on here, it's not just some simple terrorist action. You need to get down there."

Solid Snake seemed to grumble.

"This is obviously a trap, another reload of the Shadow Moses scenario; you know the Patriots have a deep hand in this…"

Otacon's voice seemed grave and tired.

"Yes…I realize that Snake…but we have no other choice. There'll be a transport helicopter waiting for you in an airfield in Saratoga. We have no other choice; you must stop whatever factions behind this, and rescue Raiden."

Snake sighed and broke the connection.

He'd always been getting dragged into things like this, and like an aging Big Boss, he was slowly but surely growing tired of it.

Such was the life of one of the "sons" of the greatest warrior of the Cold War, such was the life of a product of Les Enfants Terribles

* * *

**The island of Lihin, South China Sea**

**Unknown Location**

Nox stood sighing as the JRA soldiers strolled past him, patrolling the dense jungle surrounding the compound.

He was a tall, lanky Russian with pale skin and red eyes, evident of an albino.

He stared at their tan uniforms, toting AK-47s and sighed.

Involving Pyesetz with such a crude terrorist organization as the JRA had not been his original intention.

_But you can't ignore orders from up top, can you? Especially from that high up…_

He had his own reasons for this.

The Pyesetz had been established from the remnants of the KGB and defectors of the Genome army as well as other organizations including the Spetsnaz.

There were only a number of elite members, the number hadn't changed for ages, and he could see one of his fellow members, Hanzo Eagle, slowly approaching him with a bored look on his face.

Eagle was a relatively tall, skinny man of Japanese origin, dressed in a gray jacket with green combat jeans. At his side were his precious katana and wakizashi.

Nox sighed at the look on Hanzo's face as he approached.

He knew it, the bastard was bored. He was always bored when he wasn't busy slicing open bodies.

Nox remembered when he'd received the gruff man, blood covered all over his body, after slaughtering his village outside Osaka.

He'd been there on an NSA job, long story that was frankly irrelevant, but they'd gotten along quite charmingly.

Hanzo was perhaps the greatest swordsman alive, and he was indeed dependable and loyal, as long as he was kept excited and in battle.

That of course, was the problem.

His superiors had told him to stay delicate and quiet for the time being until their prey arrived, to work with the JRA for as long as possible and at least try to be civil. And Nox for the most part was fine with that. The only problem was the other members of Pyesetz.

Beside him was the safeguard the superiors had given him, which slightly annoyed and fascinated him.

A young man clad completely in black, long black pants, a black trenchcoat, dark black glasses shading his eyes, and even a thick black goatee and long ebony hair. He couldn't have been older than 19.

He stared forward numbly and silently as he strolled next to Nox, the contact from the people "up top", the messenger, the one that would guarantee the ordeal would go through correctly without betrayal.

At the teenager's hip was what seemed to be some sort of black pole that might have been useful as a club of sorts if it wasn't so long, and strapped onto his back was a black Panzerfaust, an odd weapon to Nox.

He had been told to call the young man only "Brittle Snake", an odd designation he found slightly amusing since it seemed depreciatory.

Hanzo finally reached the pair, his eyes flitting hatefully towards Snake's and then going back seriously towards the leader of Pyesetz.

Nox simply nodded, putting a milky white hand on Hanzo's shoulder.

"I understand Hanzo, I understand your frustration, and Viper's frustration, as well as the rest of the gang. But for now, we must sit tight before the grand finale! It will be worth the wait, trust me, but for now, we must remain placid."

A young, nervous looking JRA recruit suddenly stepped in front of Nox, staring nervously at the group and then saluting.

"Um…Mister…Nox, sir. Grand Comrade Wako would like to have a world with you."

Nox sighed at the stuttering, nervous recruit and then nodded, smiling reassuringly and sending the young Asian man running along.

He turned to Hanzo and nodded, the swordsman sighing and walking off back into the dense jungle, and then he turned to Brittle Snake, speaking quietly to the young man.

"I must now converse with that lout Wako, will you accompany me?"

Nox knew in truth that this was all foolishness. The JRA had no sway in this matter; they were simply the cannon fodder and supplies. The Arsenal Gear would never truly be in their hands, it was simply a farce, as always.

The young man in black shook his head silently, having not spoken a single word since his arrival ("Hello.").

Nox sighed as the young man strolled off, the Panzerfaust bouncing on his back, and turned away, clenching his fists.

_My motives are my own, and they come first, before Them, before my comrades, before this crock Red Army…But that one…He could be a threat…I don't understand his motives or his reasons, they simply sent him here…as if to watch over me, to baby-sit me even?_

Nox scoffed as he entered the JRA compound, the soldiers saluting him.

_I shall reveal to the world my power, I cannot allow this to continue…It is maddening that I submit to those lower than me, the human race itself…I will have it…I will have Solid Snake. He will be my salvation, right after I kill him._

_

* * *

_

Well, hope you enjoyed this chapter…May have been weird, confusing, lame, or too short, but things will get cleared up and be more interesting chapter by chapter, so don't worry too much, just be patient.

Heh, well, see you next chapter, I guess. Later.


	3. Venom and Massacre

Well, zero reviews on a third chapter is odd for me, I guess I'm used to more lively fanfiction, but I suppose since this is my first MGS fanfic I shouldn't be surprised…I've been doing alright, or at least bouncing around cool ideas in my mind; it's been quite fun.

As for these weird new characters, don't worry, all will be explained, slowly but surely.

Well, anyway, let's start the show.

Disclaimer: I don't own Metal Gear or its characters. Konami does, and they rock. Who else could create someone as kickass as Revolver Ocelot!

* * *

**The island of Lihin, South China Sea**

**Unknown Location**

Heinrich Nox frowned angrily as he stared at the odd-looking Japanese man looking him up and down almost critically.

He'd always been used to ridicule or aversion, being completely albino, his pupils red, his skin almost as white as the paper of the Communist propaganda he had been writing in the early 1990s.

But the affliction had only struck him a decade or so ago. He remembered the slow decline into madness as his skin became discolored, as his eyes grew wild and dead, and as his mind fell into horror.

Indeed, he remembered it, he thrived off of it, and Wako's staring eyes only made Nox's returning gaze even more intense and unflinching.

Wako simply nodded satisfactorily to himself and stepped backwards, adjusting his prim tan uniform.

Nox smirked.

_Another fool, another deluded imbecile believing in the "cause"._

Wako was another holdover from the "glory" days of the Japanese Red Army, the current leader, a stocky, bald, insignificant man, who like all his men on this island, was mainly part of an unknowing farce.

"So, Comrade Nox, how are you and your Brigade doing? I trust you find the compound satisfactory."

Nox nodded, simply grunting, apathy that gave the appearance of subservience.

Wako slowly sat down, offering Nox an empty, cushioned leather chair, and then pulled a small flask of whiskey from behind his desk, pouring it into two empty glasses.

"But, comrade, I did not call you hear for simple pleasantries."

Nox almost yawned, but then nodded, not going for his glass of liquor.

"I have been informed recently that a great hero to the cause is arriving! Revolver Ocelot, Shalashaska of the old Ocelot unit. We heard great things on his work for your motherland. Is this true?"

Nox stiffened, holding back a sigh.

This was not good news. He hadn't expected this level of meddling from the Committee, not with the young Snake already here overseeing him.

He could've handled everything on the island himself, but not Ocelot. Not alone. Ocelot was a horrendously treacherous type, a fast shot, and a quick slaughterer of men.

He silently cursed to himself, not appreciating the new variable about to enter his equations and then simply adopted an artificially calm and serious tone.

"Yes, Comrade Ocelot…a great, seasoned man in the cause. He will do us well."

Wako seemed please and Nox simply smirked.

_He'll do you well after he puts a bullet in your back, idiot Jap…_

Wako was as good as dead, either by the Chinese Philosophers, by Ocelot, by Solid Snake, by the Brigade, or if worse came to worse, by Nox himself. But the time had not come for that, not yet.

* * *

**Unknown Location**

Revolver Ocelot stared forward, a calm, collected look. A group of dark obelisks surrounded him, looming over him ominously, but he seemed unaffected.

_Why am I still here, dammit?_

He was used to long and lengthy discussions with the Committee. He hadn't a choice, really, but he was getting tired waiting at the silent whim of faceless gray obelisks.

Finally they spoke.

"And one more matter remains in this incident, Ocelot."

"Yes?"

"Brittle Snake…"

Ocelot's eyes widened in confusion.

_Snake?_ _Brittle Snake? It sounds like some joke…_

Suddenly a video screen appeared, floating in front of him in the darkness, shimmering as images played on its screen, black and white, apparently from some sort of security camera.

It showed a classroom, a regular American classroom, Ocelot figured, although he'd never had the privilege (or disadvantage) of serving in the American public school system.

The image simply showed what seemed to be around twenty teenagers, possibly ages around seventeen or eighteen, high school seniors, sitting behind their desks as an old man with balding gray hair and freckles made slow gestures and seemed to be teaching them calculus.

Ocelot stared at the screen, sighing in the silent darkness, feeling horrendously bored as what seemed like hours passed by.

Then suddenly, something broke the monotony.

Ocelot almost coughed in surprise.

He hadn't noticed the young man at all. He'd simply been another nondescript student, a young man in the corner of his vision sitting down, clad in a somber black coat.

The student stood from his desk, unexpectedly, and drew what seemed to be a Luger, He fired it once into the chest of the teacher, then spun around, drawing another pistol, and beginning his work.

Ocelot's eyes widened at the massacre, not out of horror, but out of awe at the young man, who was firing bullet after bullet efficiently, almost mathematically, without waste, a single bullet per student's chest.

No one survived.

"His original name has been erased from the records. He has a long history of severe anger disorders, and coupled with the side-effects, both mental and physical, of cloning, he is quite…easy to trigger. Quite brittle indeed. "

Ocelot nodded, his voice echoing as he spoke.

"So that school massacre was simply-"

"It served quite admirably in quickening the censorship of video-sensory games and entertainment. The media was informed to blame it on video games once more."

"And not only that, Shalashaska, but it also served to bring him into our control. He disappeared from existence, away from punishment and any sort of control other than ours. It is perfect."

"He is young, he is of Big Boss, of the cursed Snake line, the freshest production of the Les Infants Terribles project, thought to have been halted so long ago by those fools at Philanthropy, and indeed by you I assume."

Ocelot nodded, silent, his mind enraged at the development occurring unbeknownst to him.

"You must oversee him, attempt to mature him into a proper servant to our cause. And simply help him oversee the situation in Lihin, make sure everything comes down without misstep."

"The JRA are deluded, nothing to worry about, but I have sent a data file on your personal computer on the Pyesetz Brigade, its members and its history. They must be watched, quite closely, and be made another subservient Foxhound, another fooled Dead Cell. You've done this well before, even when the original Philosophers existed. The trust remains, Adamska, now continue it."

Ocelot nodded and then sighed as the obelisks shimmered off into the darkness, leaving him alone in the silence.

* * *

**The island of Lihin, South China Sea**

**Unknown Location**

Nox smiled as he watched the small transport helicopter land in the clearing in front of them, kicking up dust and wind as Brittle Snake and Hanzo Eagle stood silently at either side of him, as they stared at the helicopter.

Out emerged three figures, hoisting a wooden coffin upon their shoulders, the first man visible seemed as if he had been carved from stone.

His codename was Granite Cougar, and indeed it seemed to fit him squarely, his features cut and jutting like stone, his body bare except for long green camouflage pants, the shirtless state showing off his bulging abdominal muscles.

His figure was not grotesquely muscular, but instead seemed like some cross, something perfect in between the ungainly muscles of a bodybuilder and the efficient taut muscles of a runner or swimmer.

Strapped to his back was a huge, thick, solid club of wood, nice and long, and mottled all over like a scarred old dog with notches carved into it.

Nox smirked as he watched Cougar descend, knowing full well the meaning of the notches.

Now, Granite Cougar would've been more than enough to carry the coffin, but at either corner of the opposite end was a figure, bearing the coffin against his shoulder.

The one on the right hand side was a hulking mass, a hunched over figure, odd in comparison to the taut, Greek figure of Granite. Instead he seemed hunched over and wrapped in a thick gray cape, or possibly more than one drab garment, all wrapped around him and flowing, framed by a dark green gasmask covering his face that mainly made him look like some sort of pseudo bag lady.

The figure on the left hand side was a tall, lanky, slender man dressed entirely in black with a black fedora. In fact, it seemed like he was taken off of a screen full of black and white cinema, since he was covered from head to toe in ebony except for his pale, almost completely albino skin. Even his eyes were a pale, light, lifeless gray. But in the end, he was no albino, Nox knew very well his different warriors, and Plague Hyena was no albino.

The two odd figures bearing the end of the coffin slowly halted and stayed back, silent, as Granite Cougar let the coffin slam against the ground with a thump of dust and dirt, clapping his hands to wipe off the grime, and then turning to Nox, his eyes almost twinkling as he spoke in his familiar, deep voice.

"We have the cargo."

Nox smirked as Cougar reached down and ripped the top of the coffin straight off with one hand, despite the fact that it had been nailed down tight, revealing the cargo within.

It was a pale, almost effeminate man with ivory hair and pale almost handsome features. There was evidently dry blood on his slowly moving chest.

"I trust you didn't have to rough him up that bad?"

"No sir."

Nox grinned wide, a true expression for once, odd on his pale face as he examined the unconscious face of Raiden.

_Hah…the trap has been sprung, the game begins. Now I have the ultimate bait and bargaining chip. The Committee will pay for their leniency…Speaking of that grizzled bunch…_

Nox turned to see the expression on Brittle Snake's face but then realized, with a raised eyebrow, that the young man had simply disappeared from the crowd without anyone really noticing, a dark, shrouded figure shimmering off into the jungle.

* * *

**Unknown Location over the Pacific Ocean**

Ocelot leaned back in the large cargo plane, staring at the laptop sitting on his lap.

All around him were elite Tengu, armed with katanas and P90s, the same sort that had been at Big Shell.

The Committee has graciously lent Ocelot a division of the super soldiers, and Ocelot couldn't help but smirk, having memories of the Ocelot unit flood back in his head. This would be the new Ocelot unit, it made him feel slightly nostalgic.

But he brushed the foolish memories of Sorrow away, staring at the laptop in front of him and slowly clicking on the data files that had been uploaded by the Committee.

He watched as the one labeled "Venom".

It showed a small picture, a lean, lanky man of Asian origin, the file saying he was Chinese, his name unlisted. He seemed muscular and healthy, but there was another image next to him, the image of a huddled mass of cape, a hunched-over man, stooped over with a gasmask over his face and that drab brown fabric covering his entire body and flowing down, like the garb of a monk.

Under that picture there were the simple words, "Venom Lamprey".

And then more text, which Ocelot read aloud in his mind, tired but intrigued.

_Captured by the Chinese army at Tieneman Square, listed as officially killed after attacking government troops…later experimented on with multiple poisons and venoms of the world by the Chinese Philosphers. This left him with…numerous scars, madness, and more side-effects still not recorded, as well as immunity to all poisons in the world…inexplicably survived testing…went on as mercenary for various terrorist groups in China and Vietnam before meeting Heinrich Nox and joining the Pyesetz Brigade_

Ocelot sighed, exiting the file, his mind already flooding with plans to use the information listed on his computer to his advantage.

But for now, he was tired, drifting off into sleep as his Tengu soldiers remained alert even in the safety of the cargo plane.

Revolver Ocelot, otherwise known as Shalashaska, couldn't have known however, that by then Solid Snake was on a very similar cargo plane heading towards the same region, of course if he had been, he and the entity inside of him would've been quite pleased indeed.

* * *

Yeah, yeah…short chapters…But it's not like it matters right now since barely anyone's reading this…

Once I get this story zooming along, the chapters will get longer and longer…

Well, see you next chapter.


	4. Reunions and Cannons

Well, here's the next chapter, hope the few people reading are enjoying it and possibly considering reviewing it…

Anyway, I've got a lot of fanfics, so I won't update each one super quick, but I'll never really ever abandon a fanfic.

All this real Guns of the Patriots info is getting my hyped though…Interesting, I can't wait to see the real storyline.

Well, anyway, let's start the show.

Disclaimer: I don't own Metal Gear or its characters. Konami does, and they rock. Who else could create someone as kickass as Revolver Ocelot!

* * *

**The island of Lihin, South China Sea**

**Lihin Jungle**

The two JRA troopers slowly tramped through the thick jungle underbrush, the canopy high above them, cascading with light and the savage and musical sounds of animals and creatures above.

They were clad in their familiar tan camouflage uniforms, with their AK-47s trained forward as they spoke in mutters and whispers, advancing.

"Psst…Kurahashi…"

The trooper to the right turned slightly to the trooper speaking to him, but still kept his eyes trained forward with his weapon as they advanced.

"Yeah, what is it, dammit?"

"Why-"

A rush in the trees above them interrupted the trooper, and they quickly peered around nervously, seeing a large bird flapping away.

"Heh…Um…"

"Yeah? Spit it out Kiri."

"Why are we out here again?"

Kurahashi sighed. He'd been with Kiriyama in this brigade for a goddamn decade or so but the bastard still couldn't retain anything important in that skull of his.

"We…are…here…to find that young guy, whatever they call him, Brittle Snake…"

"Why?"

Kurahashi's patience waned.

"Because, Kiri…he's been missing in the jungle for over an hour…"

"Um, but-"

Suddenly another noise above them, louder this time and Kiriyama almost yelped.

Kurahashi groaned.

"You imbecile, can't you just stay calm for one second? It's probably a snake or bird or som-"

"Snake…is right."

That was the last thing Kurahashi heard before he heard something drop down behind him and then two strong hands wrap around his neck and snap it expertly.

Kiriyama actually screamed like a preadolescent girl, dropping his weapon and trying to sprint away, but Solid Snake was much too quick, grabbing him by the heel as he tried to escape and quickly felling him to a subservient position on the mushy jungle ground.

He twisted the JRA trooper's arm behind his back and put an unlit cigarette in the corner of his mouth.

"Now tell me…Who the hell is 'Brittle Snake'!"

* * *

**The island of Lihin, South China Sea**

**JRA Headquarters**

Nox sighed as he stared down at the limp form of Raiden, a crowd of JRA troopers huddled around him along with Granite Cougar, Venom Lamprey, and Plague Hyena.

_So now…we've procured the trade…they want the young man, and we want Arsenal Gear…Or so everyone will think. As long as they think the deal is normal, as long as even my own men think those are the only motives involved, then I will be fine, and I shall be waiting for you…Solid Snake…_

Suddenly his dull red eyes flashed and he lifted his head, looking up into a shadowy tree in the darkness and speaking to apparently nothing.

"So…Cannon Manta…Tell me, have they all arrived?"

"Of course!"

A heavy German accent wafted in from the treetop, followed by a rush of air.

The man actually glided down from the darkness of the treetop, his wing-like cape bearing him down as he landed. He was clad in gray from head to toe, and where his right arm should've been, there was an odd looking cannon, enormous, although he seemed to bear it naturally.

"All of the players have come, Commandant…All of them…As you predicted."

Everyone but Nox seemed to smirk, already annoyed by Manta's glorious drop-in entrances.

Nox simply smirked and then nodded, turning away distastefully from the limp Raiden and issuing orders in a soft but firm voice.

"Granite…"

"Sir."

"Intercept Ocelot on the southern beach where he is to land, entertain him for me…I know you've been begging for a chance to finally…meet him."

Granite Cougar smiled broadly, his eyes clouded with lust as he held the huge club-like weapon on his shoulder.

"Yes, sir, I'll show him a good time…"

He walked off with that, into the forest, but not before lifting his huge club and slamming it into the ground with glee, causing huge visible cracks to form.

"And…Manta…"

The German nodded.

"I know…I know…I'll take care of anything that comes into my sector. Don't worry, mein commandant."

And with that he was gone, almost flying straight into the dense wilderness.

Nox stared at Plague Hyena and Venom Lamprey and then smirk, nodding to them and then turning away to go back to his "office" in the JRA compound. It was more of a huge secluded chamber, musty and gray.

Meanwhile, the two remaining members of the Pyesetz Brigade there hoisted up the coffin with Raiden in it, moving it towards a hangar close by.

Raiden's eyelids fluttered, and then he blinked. Twice.

* * *

**The island of Lihin, South China Sea**

**Lihin Jungle**

Solid Snake sighed, bending down beside a thick bush in the noisy jungle around him, his bandanna flickering against his already graying hair, responding to a CODEC.

"_Yeah?"  
"Snake? It's me, Otacon."_

"_Hrmmm…well if it's about this 'Brittle Snake' business, I have no idea, sounds like a joke or some fanatical admirer of Big Boss…The JRA trooper didn't seem to know a damn thing."_

"_Yeah…I…I suppose…"_

"_Otacon? What's new, any data on this mission for me? I don't want to be left in the dark here…"_

"_Yeah…well…not much. I've heard things about some sort of pay off going on here, it may involve Raiden and Arsenal Gear, although I'm not sure what…Apparently the JRA and Ocelot are definitely involved, although I can't "_

"_So basically we don't really know anything concrete."_

"_Well Snake…guess it comes with the business."_

"_Yeah wha-"_

Suddenly Snake heard a smooth and venomous voice behind him, one that surprised him and send shivers up his spine.

_How did this guy sneak up on me!_

"Well…Hello, _brother…_Or maybe Uncle Snake would be more appropriate."

Solid twirled around, staring at the young man clad completely in black standing before him with a smirk framed by a thick goatee.

"What!"

Brittle Snake simply smirked wider as he drew the long black cane at his side, twirling it menacingly with a chuckle.

"You look like a mess, Solid…The ancient productions of Les Infants Terribles…You're outdated at best, by now…It wouldn't be fun to pick on a grandpa, but I guess I could entertain you for now…"

Solid Snake's eyes widened and he reached for his pistol, just as Brittle Snake's cane jabbed towards him, an ebony blur in the twinkling emerald of the Lihin Jungle.

* * *

**The island of Lihin, South China Sea**

**Western Beach**

He stared forward grimly, his face framed by heavy armor as his boots slammed hard against the sand.

Solidus Snake slowly floated straight up in the air, his expression unchanged as his two tentacles slammed into the ground and lifted him up into the sky off of his feet to get a better vantage point.

Solidus sighed.

_Nothing but jungle…not the best area for this type of suit…I could just rip through it all though, I've got the firepower…The beach is my safest bet, but they obviously have Raiden in the center of the island._

Solidus Snake had not only survived and recovered a new suit of his high tech armor, but he had also been dubiously tipped off to Raiden's presence on Lihin.

It was all obviously the doing of The Patriots, he was just another chess piece on their board, another actor in their film, playing the part they led him to.

But he was fine with that for now…because they would pay for their underestimation.

Farce or not, possibly placing Raiden, Revolver Ocelot, and Arsenal Gear on the same island seemed risky enough for the committee.

_They're obviously desperate now, or as desperate as an omnipotent organization can get…_

He sighed as his tentacles settled him down on the ground, and began hurtling his way down the sandy beach, sending flame and jets of shining, melting glass in his wake as he counted off his armored fingers.

_First kill Ocelot, then drain Raiden's blood, then secure a Ray from Arsenal Gear…I will succeed where all others have failed…_

He clenched his fists as he rushed along quickly.

"I'm sure of i-"

Suddenly an odd sound and the feel of air rushing by him interrupted him, and then an irritating metal clang.

Solidus' eyes widened as he stopped, sending up a storm of sand, the apparently thrown daggers having barely missed his prone head, instead bouncing off his armor.

But what surprised him more was the source of the attacks.

A damningly familiar man stood before him with a smirk, a "foreign" looking man, possibly Eastern European, with a smart black goatee, sharp ebony hair, and a drab green trench coat.

"Vamp!"

"Ah…so Solidus…you live?"

Solidus scowled.

"I could say the same thing to you, 'vampire'…You're just a freak with nanomachines."

Vamp's eyes widened, but only slightly, and then he bared his ferocious looking fangs.

Solidus smiled wryly, drawing a katana as his two long tentacles floated about behind him.

"Oh, I know about them, and more…Seems like someone really wanted to set us up on the figurative date…"

"I will avenge my Queen."

"She died protecting us from Ocelot you know; us two Snakes, the great sons of Big Boss…But that's irrelevant. I'll kill you anyway, I've been hankering to test my stuff, and you're so conveniently here, ready to die."

"Hmph."

Their eyes squinted into ferocious squints, Vamp gripping two Bowie Knives while Solidus had a P90 in his right hand and a katana in the other. Dancing across both of their faces were bemused smirks of bloodlust, rage, revenge, nostalgia, and victory.

And then, it happened.

Boom.

The explosion was horrendous, and it seemed to have materialized from nothingness in the area directly between Solidus Snake and Vamp.

It shook the very earth and sent them retreating back, Vamp flung by the force, Solidus simply treading backwards, his armor and tentacles steadying him.

As the smoke and flung sand cleared, they both squinted through the debris, four eyes centering on a figure actually floating in midair, as if gliding.

Cannon Manta smiled, and then took aim once again, firing the Hydro Cutter strapped to his arm towards the two figures with a whooping Bavarian laugh.

* * *

Well, short and maybe anticlimactic chapter, but only for story purposes…

And don't worry, this fanfic won't just be mindless battling, but the battles in Metal Gear Solid are an important part of the awesomeness.

As for the next chapter:

Brittle vs. Solid!

Vamp and Solidus vs. Manta!

Cougar vs. Ocelot!

Etc!

Eheheh, well, see you next chapter.


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